


Erasing the Red

by flipflop_diva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both have a lot to make up for. Maybe they can start with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erasing the Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kitty (Tamoline)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/gifts).



It had all gone to hell in about five minutes. One minute they were in position, crouched and waiting, and the next they were being chased by countless enemies with machine gun fire. They had barely escaped with their lives, and the conversation that had followed with Phil had not gone exactly smoothly.

“There should have been an extraction team,” May had growled. 

“I told you there wouldn’t be one,” came the voice on the other end of the phone, not at all phased. 

“Five minutes before we went it.”

“That’s better than no minutes.”

“Are you going to get us out of here?”

“Yes, but I need some time. Tomorrow should do it.”

“You and I are going to have a serious discussion when I get back,” May hissed, “and you better not pull rank on me.”

“I look forward to it,” Phil quipped on the other end of the line, and then the phone disconnected.

May slammed it down and stuffed it into her pocket and then turned to look at the woman beside her, frowning when she noticed she was trailing behind her. Her face was set and determined, but May didn’t miss the very sight limp she was sporting.

“Romanoff?” she said slowly now. “You okay?”

“Fine,” the young agent choked out, through gritted teeth. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

May believed one part of that sentence but not the other. She glanced down at the device in her hand.

“There’s a deserted cabin about five miles from here,” she said. “Coulson assures us this one is for real actually deserted. Can you make it?”

“Yes,” came the grunt from beside her. But three miles later there was another grunt, this time followed by a low moan, and May turned to find Natasha Romanoff sinking down on to the ground, her face almost deathly white. Her right hand was gripping her left calf, and May almost rolled her eyes because she knew this was going to happen and it’s why she hadn’t wanted to work with her — because even if she had been a SHIELD agent for a year, trusting her and expecting her to be truthful about anything was asking a lot more than could be expected.

But Romanoff whimpered, so low May almost didn’t hear her, and she felt some of the bitterness toward her ease. She was her partner for this mission, and she couldn’t just leave her behind.

May dropped down in front of Natasha, taking her leg in her hand. She could see the blood through the black leather.

“Were you going to tell me you got hit?” May asked her now. Natasha met her gaze with a steely one of her own, her green eyes betraying nothing.

“I was handling it.”

“Sure you were. That’s why you’re lying here now when who knows how many people could be following us.”

“No one is following us.”

“Do you want to bet your life on that?”

Natasha glared. “What did you want me to do? Tell you right away and we ask them to hold off shooting us while we deal wit hit?”

May glared back. “Because it’s so much better than your blood is now on a trail for three miles and now you can barely walk.”

“I can walk,” Natasha huffed.

“Good thing,” May said, “because I’m not carrying you.”

She lifted up her own jacket to reveal a white t-shirt. She quickly sliced a hold in the bottom of it with her knife and then ripped off a strip that she wrapped, tightly, around Natasha’s leg. The redhead winced. May was almost glad.

“If you get an infection and die, that’s on you,” May said to her once she finished.

“Fine,” Natasha said.

May stood up, reaching down and offering her a hand. Natasha took it, and Melinda yanked, pulling her upward.

“We have two miles to go,” Melinda said.

“I can make it,” Natasha said.

“You better, Romanoff,” Melinda said. “Because I do not want to have to explain to anyone how I had to leave you in the wilderness. I doubt that would go over well.”

To her credit, Natasha did manage to make it the last two miles and with hardly a grunt. But when they entered the cabin, she practically collapsed on to the floor and Melinda could see the white bandage was now stained bright red.

“Come on,” she said softly, leaning down to help her sit up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I know it has to hurt.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Do you lie about everything?”

Natasha’s lip curved up slightly. “Not everything.”

Melinda rolled her eyes, but she helped Natasha into the bathroom so she could look at her leg.

•••

“Why did you do it?” It was nightfall. There was no lights in the cabin, although even if they were it wasn’t safe for them to turn them on. So it was just the two of them, lying together in the one bed in the dark.

“Do what?”

Melinda’s hand brushed over Natasha’s leg, indicating the wound she had kept a secret, although her question hinted at far more. Beside her, she felt Natasha shrug.

“I don’t like people helping me,” she said, and for once, Melinda had a sense that she was being absolutely entirely honest.

“Why?”

“Because I have a lot of make up for,” Natasha said. “And every day it seems like I owe someone else just that much more. Like now I owe you.”

“You don’t.”

“You could have left me.”

“Coulson would have killed me if I did.”

“You still didn’t have to help me.”

“You’re my partner. And I rank above you. It’s my job to make sure we both get out alive.”

“Fine,” Natasha said. They lapsed into silence.

Melinda sighed. She knew the girl beside her had finally told her something real. She owed her one in return.

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“Understand what?”

“What it’s like to owe a lot of people. To have to make up for all you did. I understand.”

“I’m not sure anyone can understand.”

In the dark, Melinda found her hand and squeezed it. “I can.”


End file.
